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MAKE-BELIEVE.'' 

(E. C, RACKSTRAW and W. MUSKERRY.) 

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" MAKE-BELIEVE 



"MAKE-BELIEVE" 



A Comedietta 



BY 



E. C. RACKSTRAW and W. MUSKERRY 



Copyright, 1910, by Samuel French, Ltd. 



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PUBLISHER 

28-30, WEST 38 th STREET 



London 
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CARROTS. 

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A GAME OF CHESS. 

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A MAKER OF MEN. 

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THE OPEN DOOR. 

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THE SALT OF LIFE. 

(gCi.D 22618 



|2.13 



Produced at the Theatre Royal, Margate, on 
Whit-Monday, May 16th, 1910. 



CHARACTERS. 



Robert Veevers (A Struggling Journalist) 

Mr. Dudley Stuart. 

Dolly (His Wife) .... Miss Ida Chapman. 

Rags and Bones (Otherwise " The Marquis ") 

Mr. Escott Robson. 

Sarah (A "General") . . Miss Cissy Sephton. 



Any costumes or wigs required in the performance 
of "Make-Believe" may be hired or purchased 
reasonably from Messrs. C. H. Fox, Ltd., 27, 
Wellington Street, Strand, London. 



MAKE-BELIEVE " 



Scene. — Living room in the Veevers' lodgings. Door, 
c. Fireplace, l.h. Inner door, r.h. The apart- 
ment gives the impression of extreme poverty and 
discomfort. On the walls by way of pictures, chromo 
portraits from illustrated papers. The furniture 
consists of coverless deal table, three wooden chairs, 
a dilapidated armchair with some gorgeous cushions 
that have seen better days ; a piano up r., surmounted 
by a glass shade containing the usual lodging-house 
collection of very artificial fruit ; a desk covered with 
writing materials and loose papers down L. ; a 
shabby little chiffonier to hold plates, cutlery, clean 
white table-cloth and napkins, stands at back of table 
against flat. 

(Dolly Veevers discovered kneeling on " rag " 
hearthrug, holding a newspaper before the expiring 
fire. She wears a grey dress of some soft material, 
but shabby and rather torn.) 

Dolly (rising). There ! I thought the wood was 
never going to catch. I think it will burn up brightly 
now to welcome poor old Bob when he comes back — 
(with a catch in her breath) — when he comes back. 

(The door, c, opens quickly and Bob Veevers enters. 
His clothes are old and threadbare and the collar, of 
his lounge coat is turned up round his ears. . Under 



8 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 

his arm he carries a roll of MSS. He comes down, 
c.) 

Dolly {running forward eagerly to meet him). 
Bob! 

Bob. Yes ; all that's left of him ! (Pitches his 
cap on piano, turns down collar, and crossing over to 
fireplace, l., tries to warm his hands.) 

Dolly. Well ? What luck ? 

Bob (bitterly, with averted head). The usual ! 

Dolly. Didn't you see the Editor ? 

Bob. Yes ; but the Editor didn't exactly " see " 
me ! In fact, our interview though brief, was very 
much to the point. He told me my contribution was 
eminently meritorious 

Dolly. How nice of him ! I knew he would ! 

Bob. They always do ; but he added it was 
totally unsuited for his purpose, and regretted that 
he couldn't detain me as his time was valuable. 
What price mine, I wonder, and the days I've wasted 
over this ? (Holding MSS. over fire.) 

Dolly. And only a month ago, when your first 
article was accepted, he said it was " brilliant, forcible 
and full of promise." That's what he called it then. 

Bob. And now he advises me to try somewhere 
else. 

Dolly. What are you going to do ? 

Bob. Send it to the only place my work seems fit 
for — to blazes. It may keep the fire going for a few 
minutes longer, (About to throw MSS. on grate.) 

Dolly (rescues papers). Why not try some one 
else ? I'm sure it's beautifully written — 

(He turns to her with a gratified look.) 

— anybody could read it, easily. 

Bob. Bah ! (Turning away with a stamp of 
impatience.) I'm tired of tramping about all day 
interviewing Editor after Editor, just as if I was a 
beggar. 



" MAKE-BELIEVE." 6 

Dolly. But you're not a beggar, Bob. A beggar 
wants bread and you only ask for work. 

Bob. God knows I want both — and that's the 
reason, I suppose, I can't get either ! {Then, quietly.) 
I'm afraid it's all over, little woman. 

Dolly (aghast). Bob ! What do you mean ? 

Bob. Heaven forgive me ! You must go back 
to your mother, Dolly, dear. 

Dolly. And you ? What are you going to do ? 

Bob (Utterly). Pay the price of having spoilt your 
life! 

Dolly (frightened). Pay the price ? 

Bob (very fast). Oh, I am not going to blow my 
brains out, there are harder ways of paying the price 
than that ! I can't bear to see you getting paler 
and thinner every day, and more crushed beneath the 
burden of poverty and disappointment — you must 
go back to your people 

Dolly (passionately). I will never go back to my 
people ! You promised to take me for better or 
worse, and if you send me away — (drops sobbing into 
the armchair) — Bob ! you'd break my heart ! 

Bob. Do you think it is nothing for me to have to 
do without you ? 

Dolly (rapidly). I hate to have to go back home 
as if I were in disgrace, as if you were a failure, as if we 
had quarrelled, as if I would rather be comfortable 
with them than starving with you 

Bob (interrupting hotly). How do you think I like 
it, then, to have to send you back to be dependent 
upon their charity and pity ? (Pulls himself together 
and seats himself on the arm of her chair.) Dolly, 
dear, don't let's be unreasonable ! It may not be 
for long, and if I were alone I might be able to pick 
up some odd jobs. 

Dolly (sobbing), Of course, if I'm in your way 

Bob. We can't starve ! 

Dolly. I can ! 

Bob. That won't help us much. 



10 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 

Dolly. I will go out charing. 

Bob. That's not a lucrative profession, either, and 
even then, we must have a roof to shelter us at night. 

Dolly (with face in cushion).. There are the Salva- 
tion Army Shelters. 

Bob. Dolly ! Don't make things harder for me. 

Dolly. You really want me to go ? 

Bob (walking up and down distractedly). Want ! 
Want ! / want — you want — want is turning my 
brain ! 

Dolly (getting up suddenly and drying her tears). 
I won't make things harder, dear. (Crosses and lays 
her hand on his arm.) Bob — I'll go. 

(Both stand silent for a minute, then Bob covers her 
hand with his.) 

Bob (quietly). Thank you, Kiddie. 

(Soft music.) 

Dolly seats herself in the armchair, and looks dreamily 
out towards the audience. Bob stands with his back 
to her.) 

Dolly. Some folks seem to have the gift of taking 
life easily and happily and meeting everything with a 
smiling face — like our old neighbour, Rags and Bones. 

Bob (mystified). Rags and Bones ? 

Dolly. Yes, the old gentleman who lives all alone 
on the floor above. 

Bob. Gentleman ? (laughing). I can't say he 
ever struck me in that light. 

Dolly. That's because he is always dressed in 
such shabby clothes and because he is so thin and 
miserable-looking. 

Bob. Of course ! I remember now, and that's 
why we always called him " Rags and Bones." 

Dolly. We generally have a little chat upon the 
stairs ; I am sure he has seen better days, although 
he's probably even poorer than we are ; he always 



"MAKE-BELIEVE." 11 

seems so cheery and courteous, that one day when 
things were looking more dismal than usual, I couldn't 
help asking him how he did it. 

Bob. Did what ? 

Dolly. Kept it up like that ! And he said, " My 
child, make-believe. If you want anything very 
badly that you can't have, make-believe, and you'll 
be just as happy as though you had it. In this world 
things are not what they are, but what you like to 
make them. Make-believe, make-believe, make- 
believe ! and you'll be as happy as the birds upon the 
trees," and off he went whistling up the stairs like 
the thrushes used to do by the river after rain, when 
we were paddling in the skiff together in the dear old 
days — before the bad times came. (Faltering and 
covering her face with her hands.) 

Bob (crossing over to her and wiping her eyes with a 
silk handkerchief he takes from his pocket). Cheer up, 
Doll — don't give way ! 

Dolly. It's all right, the rain's over now — 

(Music stops.) 

— Bob ! (excitedly). Let's make-believe that we are 
rich and happy just this one night before we say 
good-bye. 

Bob (rather brokenly). Dolly 

Dolly (springing up). No ! sir. No longer Dolly 
Veevers, but the Lady Clara Vere de Vere ! (She 
makes Bob a sweeping curtsey.) 

Bob (bewildered). Dolly, I 

Dolly. Milord ! Have you forgotten that to- 
night we entertain the Marquis de Carabas to dinner ? 

Bob {still bewildered). The Marquis of — how 
much ? 

Dolly. And you are still in your homespuns and 
your clumsy shooting boots. 

(She picks up a pair of all-to-pieces carpet slippers. 



12 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 

He takes them from her and holds them oat at arm's 
length. ) 

Bob. 'Strath ! Miladi, the patent leather of my 
dancing pumps is beginning to wear a wee ! 

Dolly. Wait a moment. I don't believe the 
Marquis has ever had his invitation ! 

Bob. I'm jolly well certain 

Dolly (severely). Milord ! (Seats herself at desk.) 
Where is my pen of amber and pearl ? (Picks up a 
broken penholder and nibbles the end ; looks thoughtful 
for a moment, then begins to write.) " The Lady Clara 
Vere de Vere requests the pleasure of the company of 
the Marquis de Carabas to dinner to-night, at eight 
precisely. R.S.V.P." Let me see, how do I fill in 
the bottom left-hand corner, or is it the right ? Oh ! 
I know what to do, you always put the name of some 
popular musician or somebody who is to perform 
during the evening. 

Bob. Paderewski ! 

Dolly. Of course ! I remember the dear man 
refused an American Shoddy King on purpose to be 
present. (Writing.) " Paderewski." 

Bob. If you want to indicate the nature of the 
entertainment, hadn't you better put " spoof " in the 
other corner ? 

Dolly (reproachfully). No — " make - believe." 
Might I trouble you, Milord, to press the electric 
bell ? Carrington shall deliver the note by hand, as 
the Marquis's demesne adjoins our own estate. 

Bob. I say, Dolly, you're only rotting, aren't 
you ? You are not really going to send this note 
anywhere ? 

Dolly. But indeed I am ! I am going to send it 
to Rags and Bones. 

Bob. To Rags and Bones ? 

Dolly. Naturally. I always address him as the 
" Marquis " now, and he calls me " My Lady." 



" MAKE-BELIEVE." 13 

Bob. And now you're going to ask him to take a 
hand at his own game ? 

Dolly. I'll answer for it the Noble Marquis will 
rise to the occasion. 

Bob. That's all very well, Dolly, but we haven't 
got any dinner. 

Dolly. Milord, do you venture to question the 
resources of the larder of a Vere de Vere ? I prithee 
confine your attention to the choice of your vintages. 
Will you ring for Carrington ? 

Bob. Who's Carrington ? 

Dolly. The slavey, of course. 

Bob. Oh ! (Throwing door open and shouting.) 
What-ho ! Sarah ! 

(Sarah, a smutty, untidy little slavey, shuffles on in 
shoes several sizes too big for her. She carries three 
smoking kippers on a grid.) 

Sarah. 'Ere you are, Mum — and 'ere's yer kippers, 
three for tuppence, and done to a turn ! 

Bob. Good gracious ! she's dripping the grease all 
over our best Turkey pile ! 

(He seizes the grid and rushes off with it, d.r.) 

Dolly (to Sarah who stands open-mouthed). Sarah, 
I want you to take this note to the gentleman upstairs. 

Sarah. We ain't got no gentleman up our stairs. 

Dolly. Mr. Rags and Bones — you know. 

Sarah. Oh, the third floor back ? (Nodding her 
head and taking the note by the corner.) Yes'm, I'll 
take and shove it under the mat. 

Dolly. You will do nothing of the kind, Sarah ; 
you will hand it in properly, and wait for an answer. 
It is an invitation to supper to-night. 

Sarah (grunts and shuffles to the door c, then turns). 
If you leave Master alone with them kippers, there 
won't be nothing but cinders to ask him to 'ave supper 
off! 

(Exit, d.c.) 



14 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 

(Bob re-entering, d.r.) 

Bob. I have been consulting the butler about the 
wines, dear ; have you any idea in which direction 
the taste of the Marquis lies ? Still or sparkling — 
full bouquet or dry ? 

Dolly. I should think Sparkling Moselle. 

Bob. Right you are ! Three ginger-pops. 

Dolly. Bob ! Can you afford it ? 

Bob (tossing some loose coppers in his hand). Afford ? 
Milady ! Do you presume to question the finances of 
a Vere de Vere ? 

(Throws on his cap and exit, d.c, colliding with Sarah, 
who is coming in — business.) 

Dolly (at desk). Now for the menu — 

(Perceiving Sarah.) 

Well ? 

Sarah (down front, shutting her eyes, putting her 
arms behind her back and gabbling quickly). The 
Markiss O'Callabash presents his compliments to the 
Lady Verdyvere and 'as much pleasure in accepting 
of her kind invite for h'eight precisely. Lor, Mum, 
what do 'e mean by that ? 

Dolly. Sarah ! Look at me. / am the Lady 
Vere de Vere ! 

Sarah. Lor ! are you, Mum ? 

Dolly. This room, Sarah, for the time being, is 
my Louis Quinze Boudoir. 

Sarah (looking round bothered). Boodwor ? — 
that's a bloomer ! 

Dolly. When the Marquis de Carabas arrives, 
it will be instantly transformed into a Baronial Ban- 
quetting Hall, and you, Sarah, who are at present, 
Gustave the Cordon Bleu 

Sarah. Oh, I am, am I ? Well, I'm blowed ! 

Dolly. You will at the same moment do a quipk 
change into the part of Carrington, the Family 



" MAKE-BELIEVE." 15 

Butler ; in this character, remember, you stand six 
feet in your stockings 

Sarah (shocked). Stand in my stockings ! Not 
me, Mum ! I couldn't show 'em, on account of the 
'oles. (Pulls down her skimpy skirts.) 

Dolly. Silk stockings, Sarah 

Sarah. Ho ! that's a bit of all-right, that is ! 
(Taking up her dress and mincing across stage.) 

Dolly. With padded calves. 

Sarah. Padded ? (indignantly). Nothing o' the 
sort, Mum ! 

Dolly. Your hair is powdered. 

Sarah. Beggin' your pardon, but it ain't — it may 
be a bit dusty, but 

Dolly. But me no buts ! You have a smart 
livery with a scarlet face 

Sarah (whimpering). I can't 'elp my nee, Mum ; 
it's them dratted kippers ! 

Dolly (not heeding). With a scarlet facing. 
When you address either your master or myself, you 
will say — " Certainly, Milord " — " Certainly, Milady." 
Now, Sarah, let me hear you say it — Carrington, 
hand the Marquis the salt. 

Sarah. Suttingly, Milord— suttingly, Miladi. 

Dolly (laughing and clapping her hands) Sarah, 
that's splendid ! (Suddenly remembering her part.) 
Please make-believe, for the time being, that you are 
Gustave the Chef — Gustave, what Potage have you 
provided for the Marquis's consumption ? 

Sarah (bothered). That's a korf-drop, that is ! 

Dolly. I mean, the soup. 

Sarah (considering). Well, there's the remains 
of the mutting broff 

Dolly. Consomme de Mouton. Fish, Gustave ? 

Sarah. Them kippers, Miladi. 

Dolly. It is impossible to disguise a kipper in 
French frills. However — we must have some sort 
of next course as well, Sarah. (Confidentially.) 
What is there in the larder ? 



16 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 

Sarah (shutting her eyes and jerking out the list). 
Three cold taters — the leavings of Irish stew — a 'and- 
ful o' cold vegetables — the mutting gristle from the 
broff 

Dolly. Put them into the stewpan and warm 
them all up together. And that cornflour pudding 
that was too lumpy to eat, put that in too, it will do 
for thickening. Now, what can that be called, 
Sarah ? 

Sarah. A nice ole mix-up, Mum, begging your 
pardon. 

Dolly. The very thing, Gustave ! How bril- 
liantly you are playing up to the part ! We will call 
it Pot-pourri, of course. 

Sarah. Anythink else, Miladi ? 

Dolly. Sweets — and our dessert ? (Sadly.) No, 
there is nothing else. 

Sarah. Wot price the wax fruit under the shade ? 
(Taking it from top of piano.) 

Dolly. Placed on an epergne, it will grace the 
table as a centre-piece. 

(Sarah places it on table on an inverted flower-pot, 
round which Dolly folds a frill of manuscript paper.) 

Sarah. Ain't it lovely ! (Admiring the effect 
and clapping her hands.) 

(During above Sarah has laid cloth and napkins, etc., 
on table.) 

Dolly. And so our feast will end — as it began — 
in make-believe ! (With a quick sigh.) 

(Sarah backs out c. door, colliding with Bob, who enters 
juggling with gingerbeer bottles, which he slams down 
on table.) 

Bob. I fancy the Marquis's carriage will stop the 
way directly. I heard the old boy shuffling down the 
stairs as I came in. 



1 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 17 

Dolly. Then I shall only just have time to put my 
coronet on before he arrives. 

(Exit quickly, d.r.) 

Bob (coming slowly down centre.) Her coronet ! 
A garland of withered hopes and rue. 

(Dolly re-enters with a spray of orange-blossom pinned 
across her hair — she holds out her hands.) 

Dolly. Bob ! 

(He turns, starts, and then catches her hands fiercely.) 

Bob. Dolly ! Your wedding wreath ! 
Dolly. The dearest coronet a woman can possess. 
(Pause.) Milord ! your hair wants brushing ! 

(Dolly gets a scraggy plant from window, puts it on 
table, then takes silk bandana from Bob's pocket and 
drapes it round pot. The door is thrown open and 
Sarah, in " Carrington " voice announces.) 

Sarah. The Markiss O'Callabash ! 

(The " Marquis " is a bent old man, eccentrically 
attired in rusty black clothes, and with a battered old 
top-hat. Dolly advances and holds out her hand. 
The " Marquis " bows over it.) 

Dolly. Charmed to see you, dear Marquis ! 

Marquis. Delighted, dear lady, to be basking 
again in the sunshine of your smile ! I crave the 
honour of an introduction to your illustrious consort. 

Dolly. Viscount Vere de Vere, the Marquis of 
Carabas. (Introducing.) 

(Both Men bow with an eighteenth century flourish.) 
(Sarah appearing c. at back.) 

Sarah (solemnly.) My Lords and Ladies, the 
wittles is getting cold. 

(Vanishes c.) 



IS " MAKE-BELTEVE." 

(The " Marquis " offers his arm to Dolly. All take 
their places at table — Marquis l., Dolly r., Bob at 
•head, facing audience. Crash heard off.) 

Bob. Halloa ! What's that ? 

Dolly (scanning the menu, and endeavouring to 
save the situation.) The first course — Potage de — 
something or other. 

Bob (tucking his napkin under his chin). Probably 
turtle soup. 

Dolly. Mock turtle ! 

(Sarah re-appearing c, wiping herself down with her 
apron.) 

Sarah. No, it ain't! It's the mutting broth. It's 
running down the stairs. 

Bob. Anyhow, it's " turned turtle." Mop it up, 
and proceed with the banquet. Where's the next 
course ? 

Sarah. In your bedroom, over the gas stove. 

Dolly \ Tf • . , . 

Bob } Brm S lt m ! 

Sarah. Suttingly, Milord — suttingly, Miladi ! 

(Dashes across into bedroom, R. Clashing of crockery 
heard.) 

Dolly. I hope, Marquis, you won't miss your 
turtle soup. 

Marquis. Not at all, dear lady ; in fact, I prefer 
it — outside ! 

(Re-enter Sarah with gridiron covered with a wash- 
hand basin — plumps them on table.) 

Bob. What's this ? (Sniffing.) Smells rather 
gamy. 

Sarah (removing basin with a flourish). Kippers, 
Milord — kippers, Miladi ! 

Bob. Whitechapel pheasant. Allow me. (Serv- 
ing them round.) 



"MAKE-BELIEVE." 19 

Sarah. There ! He's gone and made game of 'em 
— I knew he would ! 

(Flounces off a, offended.) 

Bob. This is the first time I have had the honour, 
Marquis, of welcoming you within my ancestral halls 

Marquis. Magnificent ! Superb ! Ah. ha ! (Wav- 
ing with his fork to Christmas-number supplements, 
pinned on wall.) Family portraits, I perceive. One 
can easily trace their likeness to their present worthy 
descendant. That " Lawrence " there ! the same 
thoughtful bump over the left eyebrow, 

(Bob feels his own surreptitiously) 

the same convergent expression in the eyes 

Bob. Dolly, do I squint ? 

(All laugh ; suddenly remember themselves, and cough 
instead.) 

Marquis. That Romney lady opposite ? Is she 
a Vere de Vere ? 

Bob. Only by marriage. 

Marquis (raising glass to Dolly). The Vere de 
Veres keep up the tradition of an eye for beauty ! 

Dolly (bowing). And the House of Cafabas its 
reputation for courtesy and wit I 

Marquis. To what master-hand may we attribute 
the carving on this graceful table leg ? I should say — 
er — Grinling Gibbons. 

(Re-enter Sarah with the stew and removing the kippers.) 

Sarah. Please, sir, it was Tommy Jones, the 
little boy what lived 'ere before 'em. (Indicating 
Bob and Dolly.) 'E did it with the bread-knife 
when 'is ma's back was turned, and she gave 'im 
such a spanking that 'e couldn't sit down for a 

Dolly (hastily). Carrington ! Hand the Marquis 
the salt ! 



20 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 

Sarah (with grand air). Suttingly, Milord ! — sut- 
tingly, Miladi ! 

Marquis (examining an enamel spoon). It is not 
often one has the chance of using such a fine example 
of Georgian silver ! 

Dolly (apologetically). I never offered any one 
such things to use before — oh ! I forgot ! 

Bob (trying to cover her confusion). The fact is, a 
kind uncle is taking care of the family plate, and we 
are living in a sort of picnic fashion, as to-morrow we 
shut up the house and go abroad. 

Marquis. I had no idea you intended leaving so 
soon. 

Bob (slowly). No — we ourselves had not anticipated 
having to go quite so precipitately. 

Sarah (whispering loudly). You don't really mean 
you are going, Mum, and leaving me and all ? Oh, 
booh-ooh ! (Throwing her apron over her head.) 

Dolly (aside). Hush ! Carrington ! Please re- 
mind Sarah that to-night everything is make-believe. 

Bob. You have not yet told me what you think of 
my wine, Marquis ? 

Marquis. It is as bright and sparkling as my 
hopes for the future of (rises) my host and hostess ! 

Bob (rising). To the health of the Marquis of 
Carabas ! who, by his good comradeship and humour, 
has made the eve of our departure a merry one ! To- 
morrow (sadly) it will be au revoir ! (Hastily remem- 
bering himself.) To the Riviera, I mean ! Our 
address Hotel de Luxe, Cannes. 

Sarah (down front). Oh, dear ! Oh, lor ! this 
'ere make-believe is making me feel so queer inside. 

(Exit, (L, with tray, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Crash 
heard off.) 

Dolly (rising and going up.) Sarah ! You've 
broken something again. 

(Sarah re-appearing, c, with her apron to her eyes.) 



" MAKE-BELIEVE." 21 

Sarah. Please, M'm, it — it's only my 'eart this 
time ! 

(Dolly gives her a spontaneous hug, and Sarah 
disappears, crying quietly.) 

Dolly (comes down front). Poor Sarah ! I'm 
afraid " Make-believe " isn't quite so satisfactory, 
after all ! (With a long sigh.) 

(During above Bob has motioned Marquis to armchair.) 

Bob (to Marquis). Cannot I tempt you with some 
hot-house fruit ? (Tapping shade.) 

Marquis. Raised under glass, I see. Not any, 
thanks ! 

Bob. Then have a fag. (Offering packet of 
cigarettes.) 

Marquis (selecting one). What choice Havanas ! 

Bob. Ya'as — the celebrated Dust-bin brand — 
don't-cher-know. (Aside, lighting up and puffing.) 
Must keep up this ridiculous fooling for Dolly's sake, 
I suppose ! (To Dolly.) My dear, are you not 
keeping Paderewski waiting ? 

Dolly. I haven't found a Make-believe for him. 
I must play that part myself. 

(Seats herself at piano and, after striking a few chords, 
commences playing " Home, Sweet Home " very softly. 
Suddenly, with a sob, she drops her head on the keys. 
The Marquis rises hurriedly and blows his nose. 
Bob in dismay turns first to Dolly and then to 
his guest.) 

Bob. Dolly ! Sir ! will you excuse us ? My 
wife is unwell — tired — upset. (Leans against table 
and runs his fingers distractedly through his hair.) 
It's a poor game — Make-believe, after all. 

Marquis. Aye, / know ! I've played it long 
enough ! What am I to look at ? — a seedy old 
beggar, scarcely fit to sweep a crossing — and yet you, 
my kind host and hostess, ask me in and give me your 



22 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 

honest hands — the first and only welcome a lonely 
old man has known for years. God bless you for it, 
dears — and yet, I crept in here on false pretences. 

Bob. False pretences ? I do not understand ? 

Marquis. Man, I'm not poor, but rich ! — maybe 
a miser. (With sudden passion.) But, by Him who 
made me ! — shabby, threadbare as you see me — I 
could buy and sell half the snobs and upstarts who 
wouldn't touch my rags. If I saved and scraped 
until I'd piled a fortune up, it was for my daughter's 
sake. I made my child my idol — and He has pun- 
ished me ! 

Bob. And she is ? 

(Marquis bows his head.) 

Oh, my poor Marquis. (With his hand on his shoulder.) 

Marquis. No, no, not dead — not dead — she 
lives again — in her. (Very low, pointing to Dolly.) 

Bob. My wife ! 

Marquis. Yes ; the same sweet eyes — her gentle, 
winsome ways. I've watched her day by day, until, 
at last, she seemed to take my dear dead daughter's 
place — here, in my empty heart. (Timidly.) Per- 
haps some day you may both of you spare me some 
little place in yours. (Taking his battered old hat.) 
Now, I will say, good-bye. 

Dolly (rising and coming forward). But must you 
go so soon ? 

Marquis. Only for a little while, my dear. Ex- 
cuse me — something I'd forgot. (Returning to table 
and turning his back to them, hurriedly extracts four 
notes from a battered old wallet, and placing them under 
a plate.) 

Bob. But, sir ! You really mustn't ! 

Marquis. Hush, my boy ! / know where the 
shoe pinches. Good-bye — God bless you both — 
and allow me to thank you for your very charming 
and recherche — little — er — Fete Sham-petre, my lady ! 
(With a sweeping courtly bow to Dolly, goes up c.) 



MAKE-BELIEVE. 



23 



Bob (raising plate). Four notes of fifty each ! 
Dolly ! Two hundred pounds in Bank of England 
notes 

Dolly. And all real ? 

Bob. Yes — no " Make-believe," my darling, there ! 
(Taking her in his arms and flourishing the notes 

behind her back.) 

Picture — Marquis up stage looking at them. 



Curtain. 




iteJiEJiiznsri 



THE PLAYS OF R. G CARTON. 

is. 6d. each. 

LADY HUNTWORTH'S EXPERIMENT. 
LIBERTY HALL. 
MR. HOPKINSON. 
SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 

THE PL A YS OF H. V. ESMOND. 

is. 6d. each. 

BILLY'S LITTLE LOVE AFFAIR. 

ONE SUMMER'S DA Y. 

WHEN WE WERE TWENTY-ONE. 

WILDERNESS. 

THE PL A YS OF MADELEINE LUCETTE 
RYLEY. 

xs. 6d. each. 
AN AMERICAN CITIZEN. 
fEDB UR Y JUNIOR. 
MICE AND MEN. 

THE PLA YS OF OSCAR WILDE. 

is. 6d. each. 

IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST. 
LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN. 



LONDON: SAMUEL FRENCH, LIMITED. 



PRa.THTIJ*G ROOM. 




Only Kept in the large size, the bacK scene is 13 feet long and 9 feet high and ex- 
tends with the Wings and Borders to 20 feet long and 11 J feet high. In the centre 
is a French window, leading down to the ground, On the left wing is a fireplace 
with mirror above, and on the right, wing is an oil painting. The whole scene is 
tastefully ornamented and beautifully coloured, forming a most elegant picture. 
The above is a representation of a box scene consisting of 38 sheets of paper, 
the extra sheets being used for the doors each side. 

£ s. d. 
Back Scene, Border, and 1 Set of Wings, unmounted ... ..200 

Ditto, mounted ... 4 4 

Back Scene, Border, with 2 Sets of Wings as above to form Box 

Scene, unmounted 2 10 

Ditto, mounted .. 5 6 

COTTAGES. 




This is also kept in the large size only. In the centre is a door leading outsiae. 
Oa the left centre is a rustic fireplace, and the right centre is a window. On th« 
Wings are painted shelves, &c, to complete the scene. The above is a represent 
tation of this scene with 1 set of Wings only (not a Box Scene), but a Box Scene 
can be made bv purchasing the extra set of Wings. Prices and size Bame as 
drawing Room Scene above 



NOV 22 191Q 



FRENCH'S ACTING EDITION 



VOLUME 150 

2236 The Dentist 
2287 Taken for Granted 
8238 Just as Well 
2239 Hoginany 
224U Pansy 

2241 A Doctor's Engage- 

ments 

2242 A Duet 

2243 My Milliner's Bill, Is. 

2244 My Aunt from Cali- 

fornia 

2245 His Life for Hers 

2246 The Meeting 

2247 The Umbrella 

Duologue 
2243 The Late Lamented 
2249 Woman Triumphant 

2260 Angelina's Lover 

VOLUME 151 

2261 Chrysanthemums 

2252 My First Client 

2253 Punctured 

2254 Old Pals 

2255 Honeymoon Tragedy 

2256 Commission 

2257 Hal, the Highwayman 

2258 Dinner for Two 

2259 Ninth Walte 

2260 Human Sport 

2261 Collaborators 

2262 Mere Man 

2263 Packing Up 

2264 Paying Guest 

2265 'Enery Brown 

VOLUME 162 

2266 The Jilt 

2267 'Op-o'-Me-Thumb 

2268 A Marriage Has Been 

Arranged 

2269 Carrots 

2270 Conversion of Nat 

Sturge 



2271 Cleric 

2272 Aubr< 

2273 Work 

2274 Two o 

2275 Bridg 

2276 That 

2277 Well 

2278 Make 

2279 Gutte. 

2280 Game of Chess 

VOLUME 153 

2281 Mr. Steinmann's 

Corner 

2282 Ella's Apology 

2283 Colour Sergeant 

2284 Helpless Couple 

2285 First Aid to the 

Wounded 

2286 Correct Thing 

2287 Their New Paying 

Guest 

2288 Domestic Entangle- 

ment 

2289 Salt of Life 

2290 Time is Money 

2291 Wally and the Widow 

2292 Deceitful Miss Smiths 

2293 Holly Tree Inn 

2294 Up-to-date 

2295 Bit of Old Chelsea 

VOLUME 154 

2296 Wrong Side of the 

Road 

2297 The Open Door 

2298 Prima Donna (Pem- 

berton) 

2299 Lights Out (Pemberton) 

2300 Mirror of Time 

2301 Three Blind Mice 

(Muskerry) 

2302 Privy Council 

2303 Snowed up with a 

Duchess 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



-ich 




014 430 650 8 $ 



j Martha 
jse's De- 
Aunt 
)arling 



VOLUME 155 

2311 That Horrid Major 

2312 Bardwell v. Pickwick 

2313 House of Nightingales 

2314 Turtle Doves [der 

2315 Superior Miss Pellen- 

2316 His Good Genius 

2317 Martha Plays the Fairy 

2318 Dumb Cake 

2319 Proposing by Proxy 

2320 Phcrmix 

2321 Boatswain's Mate 

2322 Final Kehearsa! 

2323 Two Aunts at a Time 

2324 Nelson Touch 

2325 Convict on the Hearth 

VOLUME 156 

2326 Grey Parrot 

2327 Ghost of Jerry Bundler 

2328 Bishop's Candlesticks 

2329 Peacemaker 

2330 Changeling 

2331 Wire Entanglement 

2332 Pride of Regiment 

2333 "1588" 

2334 Man on the Kerb 

2335 O'Dowd 

2336 Impertinence of the 

Creature 

2337 Dramatist at Home 

2338 Martha the Soothsayer 

2339 Old Martha Is. 

2340 All Through Martha Is. 



AN AMERICAN CITIZEN 
BILLYS LITTLE LOVE 

AFFAIR 
BRACE OF PARTRIDGES 
BRIXTON BURGLARY 
CAPTAIN SWIFT 
OASSILIS ENGAGEMENT 
CHARITY THAT BEGAN 

AT HOME 
COUNTRY MOUSE 
DR. WAKE'S PATIENT 
FACING THE MUSIC 
FASCINATING MR. VAN- 

DERVELDT 
IDLER. 
IMPORTANCE OF BEING 

EARNEST 
IN CHANCERY 
JEDBURY JUNIOR 



BARRIER 

BUILDER OF BRIDGES 

cave of illusion 
Dancing girl 
hypocrites 
joseph entangled 



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